Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?
by JuliaBeth
Summary: Chummy's thoughts on the events that led to her telling Mater she was no longer entitled to a white wedding gown.


Author's note: I know this song was released in 1961, which would have been 3 years after Chummy and Peter were married, but it seemed so perfect that I decided to mess with the song's timeline.

This story goes with my yet unpublished AU fic centering around Chummy's family, but with the exception of three scenes can stand alone.

Disclaimer: The song belongs to the Shirelle's and anyone you recognize from the show belongs to Neal Street Productions. Just borrowing them for a while.

Please read and review.

* * *

It had been on her mind since that fateful morning in the police station. The memory of his startled look, then smile as she revealed that she was nearly naked under her raincoat had caused still made her giggle to herself. Then he had kissed her in that way that made even her toes curl with anticipation.

Of course, she hadn't done it that night, though they had gone out and she _had_ nearly missed her curfew due to his, and her, if she was being brutally honest, wandering hands. They had spent that night having a long talk about everything that had transpired in the days since her mother's visit from the point she had refused him on the steps of Nonnatus house and leading right up to what had sent her into police station that morning in her slip and garters.

"I'm just glad she didn't have quadruplets," Chummy laughed, telling him about the unusual delivery that had taken both her cardigan and uniform. "I'm not sure I would have had the courage to come to you in just my knickers."

Peter had laughed. "Yes, I do suppose it would have put a damper on our reunion if I would have had to arrest you for indecent exposure."

Before she could reply with another jesting barb, he had cut her off with another kiss. And then, when things turned more.., _adventurous_, she felt no need to stop his hands from going places that a good girl would never allow a man to touch without benefit of at least an engagement, if not a wedding ring. But then in the world she grew up in, a good girl would never be in a man's flat alone, let alone even talk to a working class man.

It had been three weeks since then. Three weeks, six walks, four afternoon teas, three church services, numerous chance encounters while they were both about their rounds, and two dates that had ended with her lips swollen from his kisses and her feeling rather foolish, like a teenager making out in the back of their father's car or in Poplar, in their parents' basement or a bombed out building. Of course the 10 o'clock curfew did nothing to quell the feeling that she was sneaking around. It was after that last date, when she had come dashing through the door at exactly 9:59 and 45 seconds on the dot, with Sister Evangelina looking pointedly at her watch that she had decided to take that plunge. They weren't teenagers sneaking around. They were adults, 29 and 30, respectively, who both could more than provide for themselves if needs be. Themselves and anyone else who came along. She knew she shouldn't even be considering what she was wanting without a wedding band and since that horrible day with Mater, Peter hadn't even mentioned marriage again. Not that she blamed him. She had been downright cruel when he had poured out his feelings to her, trying to make her see that he didn't care one whit what Mater thought of him or them but all she had heard was Mater's disapproval ringing in her ears. Even the words that had spilled from her lips had been Mater's and not her own.

Truthfully, she was surprised he hadn't turned her away from the Stationhouse in shame as she had deserved. She was just thankful that he still professed to love her.

"Hey, Sissy, want to me to do your make-up?"

Chummy looked in the mirror at the reflection of her baby sister lounging on her bed, feet propped against the wall at the head and her head propped up on her arms at the foot of the bed. Roseanna had only been at the Nonnatus house for a month so far, but despite what strings Mater had pulled for her to come there and throw a monkey wrench in Chummy's relationship with Peter, the two girls were having a great time being back together. Of course, Rosie hadn't been too keen on Peter either at their first meeting, turning up her nose and acting a right snob whenever he was around. Then the call had come for her to attend a birth at the brothel on the Isle of Dogs and Peter had been the Constable on duty to accompany her as they were forbidden to enter those establishments alone. While no man in East End man would dare mess with the Nonnatuns out of respect, the seamen who often frequented those 'houses' did not hold the same reverence for the young nurses and nuns. Not even Sister Evangelina went without a bobby and she never seemed afraid of anything. Anyway, ever since he had dropped her back safely at Nonnatus house in the wee hours of morning, they had gotten along like a house on fire. Neither one would say what happened that night, but she could see that Rosie right adored Peter and he treated her like the kid sister his mother said he always wanted.

"No thanks, Rosie," she replied with a smile. She knew Rose wasn't casting dispersions on her looks, just bored and looking for something to do. Any other time she would have taken her up on her offer, but tonight, Chummy was determined to meet Peter as herself and no one else. Chummy rarely even wore lipstick.

The ringing of the phone sent Rosie flying to her feet. She hastily stuff her feet into her regulation shoes and grabbed her hat dashing out the door with a hurried 'have fun' shot back at her sister. Chummy was surprised when she came back not five minutes later.

"False alarm," she explained. "It was just Jimmy calling for Jenny." She kicked off her shoes and climbed back on Chummy's bed. "Want a cookie?" She held out napkin wrapped sweets.

"Sure," Chummy replied. She didn't really want one, her nerves were already on edge but she didn't want to refuse Rosie again as the younger woman was trying to be friends.

"What are your plans tonight?"

"Cynthia and I have first call, but until we are called out, we are going to play gin rummy with Trixie. Jenny too if she doesn't go out with Jimmy now."

An hour later when Sister Bernadette came to announce that Peter was there to pick her up, Rosie practically bounced out of the room while Chummy looked for the shoe that had picked that moment to disappear.

She came downstairs to find Peter sitting at the kitchen table with the other girls, looking rather nervous. Chummy could only imagine what sort of conversations had been going on around him. Like any nurses, when they got together, the conversation turned to work and war stories.

"What-ho, Peter," she said with a smile. He jumped to his feet.

"Hello, Camilla," he said.

"Hey, how come you always call Sissy 'Camilla' but you never call me 'Roseanna'?" Rosie demanded. Though Chummy did love the way he said her name, she had often wondered why he insisted on calling her Camilla instead of Chummy like the rest of East End.

"Because you haven't grown into your big girl name yet, Rosie-poley," he replied cheekily, using the childhood name her siblings had called her.

Rosie narrowed her eyes and glared first at Chummy for telling him that name, then at him for using it while the others burst into laughter.

"That's not my name," she said, lifting her nose in the air in perfect West End charm but her cheeks were flushed pink. She stuck her tongue out at Peter causing him to chuckle, and then she grinned, showing everything was right between them.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Trixie called as they walked out.

Chummy didn't hear what was said next, but heard them erupt with giggles as Peter pulled the door to behind her.

"So, what would you like to do tonight?" He asked, slipping his hand into hers. "We could go to the picture, but it's still the same one playing, or we could find a diner and get some supper."

Chummy took a deep breath it was now or never.

"I thought, maybe we could go.., back to…, your place," she finally spit out. It wasn't like she hadn't been there before; it was just that it had always been his ideal before.

Twenty minutes later, they were at his flat and once there, Chummy became shy and unsure of her next move.

_Tonight you're mine completely_  
_You give your love so sweetly_  
_Tonight the light of love is in your eyes_  
_Will you love me tomorrow?_

Fortunately, Peter was not. He helped her out of her coat, and then pulled her into his arms kissing her deeply. She assumed he was more experienced than her but she had never really thought about it. Never really cared, until now and while she didn't want to know any details, she was happy that he at least knew how to take the lead.

_Is this a lasting treasure_  
_Or just a moment's pleasure?_  
_Can I believe the magic of your sighs?_  
_Will you still love me tomorrow?_

Chummy was practically shaking as she lay on Peter's small bed, kissing him. She was resolved in her decision, but as his moves became bolder, her self-esteem was slipping. She believed he loved her, she really did, but as she laid there with her shirt unbuttoned to the waist and her skirt pushed up to her suspenders, she couldn't help but remember the boys through the years who had thought that because she was so big and ungainly and even ugly that she would be willing to give up her virginity just for the pleasure of their company.

"You're beautiful, Camilla," he said, looking at her in a way that made her believe she was.

_Tonight with words unspoken_  
_And you say that I'm the only one, the only one, yeah_  
_But will my heart be broken_  
_When the night meets the morning star?_

It was Peter's turn to fell a little embarrassed as he pulled off his vest, revealing the scars that crisscrossed his chest and wrapped around his back. He figured he was lucky, his scars didn't show to the public. There were men that had come home from the war missing arms and legs, with feet that didn't work and hands that were useless, with eyes that could no longer see and faces burned beyond recognition of who they had been. A couple of surgical incisions, a few keloid burn scars, and lung full of gas were nothing compared to that. Still, Camilla wouldn't be the first girl to turn away from the sight.

"Oh, Peter," she whispered.

He then dared to look in her eyes, knowing that if there was pity there, it would be over. He could stand sympathy, indifference, even repulsion, but pity he couldn't take.

He only found love and empathy in her eyes as she pulled him close and kissed him.

"I love you," she whispered.

_I'd like to know that your love_  
_Is love I can be sure of_  
_So tell me now, cause I won't ask again_  
_Will you still love me tomorrow?_

"Are you sure?" he whispered, poised above her, both free from all clothing now. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. You have nothing to prove to me.., or anyone else."

"Don't you want to?" She asked, her resolve breaking, wondering if this was his way of convincing her not to because he didn't want her. She really couldn't see why he did. She was too tall, too awkward, too _her_ for any man to desire. Especially not one like Peter. She saw the way other girls in Poplar watched him. He could have anyone of them. A man with a good job who was handsome to boot was a great catch.

"More than anything, but I want you to be sure, because I don't want you to regret it, or me, later," he replied. "I won't hold it against you if you want to stop. I love you."

"I'm sure. I will never regret it," she said and she knew it was true. No matter what happened when they left his flat tonight, she wouldn't regret giving all of herself to the man she loved, wedding ring or no wedding ring.

_Will you still love me tomorrow?_

That night she rushed up the steps of Nonnatus house and managed to grab the door just as Sister Evangelina was going to close it. She slipped one hand in the door.

"Camilla," Peter called from the bottom step.

"Yes?" She turned around, hoping the nun didn't slam the door on her fingers.

"Tomorrow?"

She smiled and nodded. "Tomorrow." She boldly threw a kiss before slipping in the door. The older nun rolled her eyes at the younger woman.

"You young girls," she grumped. "Have to drag you out for a night delivery but let Romeo out there be involved and we have to drag you indoors."

"Sorry, Sister," she said. She floated to her room as if on cloud. He wanted to see her tomorrow. Maybe he did love her.

She was surprised to see Rose asleep on her bed. She had her own quarters. But Chummy was happy that someone cared enough to wait up for her, even if she didn't exactly stay up. She was still dressed in her uniform so she must not have went out.

"How was your date?" Rosie asked with a yawn.

"Wonderful," Chummy replied pulling on her nightgown and slipping into bed next to her sister.

"What did you do?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just went back to his flat," she said.

"And that was wonderful?"

"Yes. It was." She smiled.

"Wait," Rose said, sitting up and staring at her. "You and he haven't…, you know, have you?"

As much as Chummy didn't want to other girls to know, she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face.

"YOU DID," Rosie gasped, her face properly shocked. "You slept with Peter. Oh my gosh! _Millie!_ You tramp!" She grinned.

"Keep your voice down," Chummy scolded. Her room was right next to Trixie's and she didn't want to give her that piece of gossip.

"Sorry." Rose laid back down beside her. "So, can I be maid of honor when you two get married?"

She sighed. "We aren't even engaged, Rosie-poley. We're not going to get married just because we had sex. You do know those things aren't always inclusive, don't you?"

Rosie nodded. "Yes, I know and I also know Peter and I see how he looks at you. You will get married. Once his ego is soothed from your refusal, he'll ask again."

"You really think so?"

"I do."

They laid in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Chummy could feel Rosie fidgeting with questions.

"What is it?" she asked.

"How?" Rose burst out. "I mean, who's ideal was it? Did it hurt? Are you going to do it again?"

Chummy groaned. "I don't want to have this conversation with you."

"Oh, come on, Chums, don't be such a prude," she wheedled. "Think of it as education. Lord knows Mummy will never have this talk with me. Her big talk when I got my courses was if you let a boy 'go all the way' then you'll be call fast or trampy. I didn't even know what 'all the way' was for another three years." She started giggling, "Though, I guess I would be called trampy."

"At least she talked to you," Chummy said. "She had Ayah tell me the facts of life."

"I'll make you a deal," Rosie proposed. "If you tell me what happened tonight, I'll tell you what happened when Peter and I went to the brothel."

Chummy thought for a moment. "Deal. But you have to go first and if I don't think your story is good enough, I'm not telling mine."

Rosie huffed. "Okay. Deal."

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Thanks for reading!

Please review.


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